Paradise at (19-17-3)

"It was love at first sight." --Joseph Heller, Catch-22.

This was not the Nassau Coliseum. There were no crumbling façades, obstructed views, or $8 rubberized meat hot dogs. No, my years of training under the tutelage of the New York Islanders had not prepared me for what I was about to see. Yann Danis* wasn't in goal. Instead, here was a kid--certifiably a kid--who seemed to barely make it past the crossbar. His style was reminiscent of an older type of goalie: one whose skills weren't derived from wingspan or immaculate technique. But he played bigger than his 5'10" frame, often frantically moving laterally with his chest puffed out. The Union crest on Corey Milan's jersey seemed somehow bigger than the rest. It never occurred to me that it was a result of his bulky chest protector.

Yann Danis: Nice pads, at least.

*Want to know how bad the 2008-2009 Islanders were? Their spectacularly bad campaign netted 1st round pick John Tavares. I still watched religiously, naturally. Oh yeah, Yann Danis? An ECAC product from Brown.

But Corey wasn't my only hero of that 2008-2009 crew. As a wide-eyed Freshman, I learned to look for Matt Cook around the net, wait for the crunch of a Mike Wakita hip check against the boards, scan the ice for the imposing 6'3" Brendan Milnamow. It was soon imparted unto me that #15 was a special player--the man they called Mario was a natural goal scorer. Within a few games, I owned Section Q at Messa Rink. This was my domain, my team. I was closer to the game than I'd ever been at the Coliseum, or at Bridgeport's Arena at Harbor Yard. Hell, I was even closer than that time I'd seen the CHL's Hull Olympiques.

I'd seen Union play the year before at the Yale Whale as a high school senior who's biggest concern was, well, anything but high school. I remember noting that this kid who wore #23 was pretty good. I made a mental note to keep an eye on Lane Caffaro next year, when I'd matriculate in Schenectady. But my gaze was diverted, once again, to the diminutive goalie. I heard whispers circulate through the crowd that he was having an impressive Freshman campaign--one that would ultimately see him named to the all-ECAC rookie team.

2008-2009 Team Roster

But the late fall of 2008 was different. Reeling from (another) disastrous implosion on the part of the Mets, I turned my focus to the ice. The Islanders, for all their woes, were still my team. I had, of course, suffered through worse. But I had inherited a new team; one with handsome garnet, white, and black jerseys. They played with fire, reckless abandon, and aplomb. I relished their propensity to consistently rack up over 40 shots in a game; often, I sympathized with their inability to win, despite so many shots. But something was different about this team--it had a certain intangible quality that was intrinsically different than the previous year's iteration. I felt preternaturally at home at Messa Rink, learning chants from the student section that would, if said in a few years, be subject for immediate ejection from the rink. I was passionate about my team. But I never quite understood why that team--a team that went 19-17-3-0), captured my imagination even more than the vastly improved 2009-2010 bunch or even the 2010-2011Cleary Cup team.

It would be four years (almost) until I figured why.

***

With the news that Union would face off against Harvard at Fenway Park on January 13th, it is quite possible that the stock of Union's men's hockey program has never been higher. Sure, they've played nationally televised games. Sure, they've been on ESPN. Sure, they've hoisted banners commemorating a first-ever NCAA appearance. Sure, our Twitter background may forever be Brock Matheson hoisting the Cleary Cup. But Fenway represents something far less tangible, and by association, more meaningful.

In 2008, the movers and shakers of the ECAC would have likely quickly dismissed the idea that an outdoor game (which didn't yet exist) should feature Union. With prominent programs--Cornell, Yale, Harvard, RPI, Princeton, or Dartmouth--the ECAC can boast a pantheon of instantly recognizable colleges, which, by the way, happen to be historically good at hockey. For the savvy marketer, a Harvard/Yale outdoor game would be optimal. Slot in Cornell and RPI? Brilliant. Put it in Boston? Entice the locals with a Harvard/Brown contest? Pure hysterics. 

But now, in 2011, soon to be 2012, the (19-17-3) team of my Freshman fall and winter, will play at the veritable Mecca of baseball. (Don't worry, Chicagoans, a similar argument can be made for Wrigley Field, and, before corporate greed innovation took hold, New Yorkers could have claimed Yankee Stadium). In some ways, it is an odd juxtaposition. This is not a traditionally venerated hockey venue--see Cornell and BU's recent matchup at Madison Square Garden. But, as I've learned over the past four years, there is often nothing "traditional" about Union's hockey program. And I'd have it no other way.

Consider this: Union has produced pros and been embroiled in coaching scandals; it began its hockey program in 1903, was program-less for 27 years, has been Independent, Division III and Division I. It is a program that has been, in some way, simultaneously prominent and invisible. 

When the 2008-2009 "Skating Dutchmen," took the ice, I knew Union's hockey history. But I didn't understand it. In 2011-2012, I'd like to say I could predict the direction of the program. But I can't; college hockey--like Union's hockey past--can be too volatile for any accurate projections of trajectory. In 2008, I saw a team that was on the cusp of greatness. But it was also a team that oozed fun. These were kids my age, who could play the game better than anyone I had seen up close. They were, most of all, kids. They were (and some still are) college students, prone to the same anxieties and fears as any other student. In some strange twist of logic, their presence in an elite hockey program was a great equalizer: any façade that had separated the student and the student-athlete was summarily torn down. These kids weren't playing for us, and we weren't watching for them. In fact, there was no "us" and "them" at all. 

Former Union Captain Mike Wakita

***

Four years later, I finally can quantify my appreciation for that 2008-2009 team. Just like the rest of the Freshman class, they were told that they were underdogs. But they didn't play like it. They were living, breathing, skating vindication of every rags-to-riches story, movie, or anachronism. They were smaller, like their goalie, but consistently played as if Rocky, Rudy, or Hoosiers was set on ice. (Some Mike Wakita hits, however, belonged in Slap Shot). The only thing was, they didn't win anything.

At least, a cynic would argue that they didn't "win" anything. But in 2008, they won over a new class of Freshman. In 2009 they did the same. 2010 repeated the pattern. Now, four iterations of one-time freshmen (and countless other installations of one-time Union Freshman will sit, cheer, and likely be cold at Fenway Park. Each generation, as it were, holds a special attachment to their alma mater. Each one, a different experience. Each one, in their own way, an underdog.

And on January 13th, you can bet that Union fans will be the underdogs once again. (It is more likely, though, that Harvard will be underdogs on the ice). In a sea of Crimson, there will be flecks of Garnet. But that won't matter so much; the Garnet-clad fans will simply be glad to be here--and will be looking forward to what's next.

To buy tickets to the outdoor game, either contact Union's Alumni office at www.union.edu/alumni or go to www.redsox.com/frozenfenway

--ZP